Dec 21, 2012

Happy Holidays!

Well, I'm officially off to attend the Spinster Classic, otherwise known as Christmas. If there is a cat in my stocking, that will be my apocolypse.

Happy Holidays to all of you and I will be back on January 3rd, provided I'm not in prison.

Much love to you and your families!


Dec 16, 2012

For the love of driving...

Last night before going to bed, I said a prayer requesting that my inner thighs wouldn't be touching when I woke up and walked to the bathroom in the morning. Obviously God saw what I was doing in closets on Saturday nights with the Stouffville Spirit hockey team when I was 17... and never came through. Instead, he's blessed me with nightmarish chaffing, saggy tits and the distinct ability to grow a chin strap. One day female goatees will be in...just wait you hairless bitches.

As I drove around the mall parking lot for 40 fucking minutes yesterday trying to find a parking spot, I wondered if I accidentally drove on to the set of The Hunger Games or if I just drove my car straight into the fiery pits of hell.  A woman ACTUALLY put on her 4 ways to try and claim both spots of cars exiting from the right and left of her. Once I caught on to what she was doing I yelled,
 "Oh I don't think so you dickface motherfucker." followed by 15 minutes of being lectured by my mother (who was in the passenger seat) of how not everyone appreciates that kind of language...blah blah blah and how she sometimes wonders if I have more testosterone than my brother because she's never heard a lady swear like me (And since I'm starting to look like Teen Wolf, I'd say she's on to something.) I was literally seconds away from Thelma and Louise-ing it right off the closest bridge.

Something comes over me when I get in the car with my mother. I feel it's the best vessel to say some of the most shocking untrue things her little Christian ears have ever heard. Reason being, the chances of her punching me while I'm driving are slim to none, but yesterday it was close. Yesterday at a stop light I turned to her and asked:

"What would you say if I told you I was in a gang bang?" 
"What's a gang bang?" 
"It's when you have sex with multiple men at the same time."


Last month I told her I lost my virginity in stairwell at school when I was 15 while wearing the pleather skirt she bought me for my birthday. Not true, I just wanted to see her face. I also told her I used to dry hump the little boy who lived next door to me about 15 times a day when we were kids.  I figured warming her up to the fact that I'm a reformed slut before she reads my blog, is one of my smarter ideas. The look of absolute shock and horror brings me an unnatural amount of joy. Every.Time.

Oh speaking of slutiness, the old lady that lives downstairs from me is a hoarder. Hoarders are notoriously slutty. I just made that up and that's not where I'm going with this. She often leaves books, toasters, tv's, small Mexican children, spatulas and random shit in the lobby for people to take. Below was one of her books up for grabs titled, 'The Best Love and the Best Sex' I bet the pages stick together. (Sorry that was gross). And since I'm a giant 13 year old trapped in a fat woman's body, I giggled when I saw it. *The picture is super blurry as I was trying to do a drive by photo so I don't look mega immature in front of the other tenants in my building. It's bad enough I'm known as the one legged spinster on the 6th floor.
I don't know how this author jammed her tips on the "best love" and the "best sex" into over 200 pages. Mine could be written on a sticky note.

The best love: Is found when you're dating a mute.

The best sex: Is when you're in a cab and realize you shaved your cha-cha before bringing a stranger home from the bar. High five.

It's really quite simple.

Anyway, I'm swamped with googling tips on how to launder money..I must go.

Over n' out

*I realize I complain about parking spots and nonsense weekly in this blog. Truth is, I have nothing to complain about. None of this shit matters. I get to wake up and celebrate Christmas with my family and friends this year. The children and teachers that lost their lives in the Newtown school shooting do not. This type of evil is incomprehensible. People born in 2006 should not be dead in 2012. This has to be the saddest most disturbing thing I've ever heard. Appreciate every moment you have with the people you care about because THAT is what matters.

Dec 9, 2012

Assholes and iPhones

I'm a giant asshole. And just to be clear I wrote, 'I'm a giant asshole' not 'I have a giant asshole.' Maybe I do, I don't know. I'm saving my asshole for marriage. Only someone legally bound to me by the province of Ontario has the honour of seeing that. Lucky him. 
Anyway, now that my mom won't be calling me until 2015, since I just publicly wrote about having anal sex, it leaves me with more time to explain why I'm an asshole. 

Exhibit A. This is Mel: (Well technically this is the tip of her nose and a side profile of her massive tits.) 

Mel has the biggest home-grown breasts I've ever seen. This week, Mel and her giant nipples went to the audiologist and she was told she would need hearing aids at the ripe age of 31. I guess Mel finally clued in that the sound of a buzz saw and constant ringing in her ears wasn't natural. Poor Mel.
I must say, I enjoyed snapping creepy photos of her today. (And the bonus part is, she didn't hear the click of the camera going off since she's waiting for her hearing aids to come in.) 
Today, Mr. Holland's Opus and I, um I mean Mel and I, went to a workshop on hair and makeup. We were tired of looking like just your average washed-up hooker, so new tips and tricks to lure some p's to our v's were appreciated. 
Also, I sent the above photo to all our friends with the caption, 'I bet she has no idea what our instructor is saying right now.' 
Before you get your panties in a twist, I'm not making fun of deaf people, I'm making fun of Mel because 1. She's the best target to ever grace my presence. 2. Her situation was/is/will be totally manageable and she is finding the humour in a difficult situation.(I admire that)  And frankly, that's what friends do... make each other feel like shit about serious life issues. 

I'd like to attribute Mel's hearing loss to karma. Maybe it was the time in University that she told an African exchange student named Sylvia that her parents called and left a message that they were flying her home to Africa for spring break since she hadn't seen them in so yeah...they never called and that never happened...I think Sylvia is still waiting in the cafeteria with her suitcases. 

Or perhaps it was the time that a bunch of us overheard our friend having sex with her boyfriend in her dorm room and Mel crank called them from across the hall saying she was a nurse from the London Health Clinic and her STD test came back positive for warts....this was also in a time of those old school answering machines that played out loud when you left a message...he heard everything. 

Moving along, I just re-thought about writing about all the things I do that make me an asshole. I'll let you think Mel is slightly more dickish than myself. Like my asshole, I'm gonna keep that shit private.

In other news, I sold my soul to Apple a couple weeks ago and got an iPhone so I'm currently swamped with waiting to lose it or smash it into a thousand pieces. It only cost me a month's rent and 5 credit card payments and now I'll probably never be able to afford my own home...but no big deal, at least my phone is pimp. As much as I love my new phone, it makes me feel completely fucking useless...right to my core. 
I've downloaded a bunch of useless apps that my friends have recommended and I just stare at them as they take up space. Oh and a quick shout out to my brother who downloaded an app which only has women in bikini's on it...THAT'S MY FAVE. My fat fingers graze it at least 300 times a day so hot women with perfect everythings, pop up on the screen and it's making me want to lunge into traffic. 
Oh and the creator of auto correct can go fuck himself. 99% of the time when I re-read my sent messages, it sounds like I'm either having a stroke or I've ingested a lethal amount of bath salts. 
SO, in the midst of waiting for my room to open up in the mental institution, I discovered Siri. You know that useless little slut that lives in your iPhone and rarely helps with life's major questions? Yeah, her. She was of zero fucking help to me this week. 

So let me get this straight, Siri can tell John Malkovich jokes and help Samuel L. Jackson make risotto in those ridiculous iPhone commericals, but she can't tell me if I'm gonna marry Jay-Z?? That's bullshit. Suck it Siri.  

Well, I just sneezed and peed a little so I must go figure out if it's worth changing my pants or my sheets. 

Nanners Out. 

Dec 2, 2012

If you're a may get this.

As I sit here in pre-menstrual bliss, sweating and hanging out in my adult diaper sized
maxi-pad, just waiting for the crime scene in my pants to begin, I've never felt more like buying a machete off e-bay blessed to be a woman. NOT. Yes, I realize the use of the word "NOT" went out with acid wash jeans but do you really want to fuck with a woman who is PMS'ing? Didn't think so. The hormones pumping through my body right now are enough to make me dead-lift a Toyota over my head in the middle of the street or instantaneously fall into a deep REM cycle sleep.

Men, if you haven't already opened a new browser and typed in "ESPN" or "Titties" then keep reading. I think nothing puts more hair on your chest than experiencing the wrath of a menstruating woman. I will be the first to pat your ass and most likely have sex with you to congratulate you on putting up with a woman who is shedding the lining of her uterus once a month.

Since I mentally feel like a hybrid of a terrorist and Marsha Brady right now, I thought I would make this post a little less intellectual than the rest of my posts by staying away from the heavy hitting topics I normally write about such as, religion and politics. (If you didn't catch my sarcasm, please leave).

Anyway, I thought I would commemorate my 19th year of bleeding from my vagina by exposing some of the not-so-proud/stranger moments I've experienced while PMS'ing.

  • Today, I went to the convenience store to pick up People's Magazine: Sexiest Man Alive issue, only to find out they were sold out. After yelling "You've got to be kidding me." to the clerk behind the counter, I came home and whipped my purse across my apartment and sat on my couch and  cried. And the Oscar goes to....
  • Once, for no reason whatsoever, (other than the fact that I was PMS'ing) I deleted all my male friends off of BBM (Blackberry Messenger) then pretended it was some random phone failure.
  • Earlier this year while watching a re-run of 'Say Yes to the Dress' on TLC, I burst into tears, ran into the washroom,cut my bangs and the tips of my hair, shaved my arms, took 3 Tylenol 3's, turned off all the lights in my apartment and got into my bed and did not get out of it for 9 hours straight...without peeing or sleeping.
  • I'd say every other month since Whitney Houston died, I light candles and scream sing "I Will Always Love You" at least 6 times in a row. 
  • No matter what my mother says, I respond "Um, why don't you just come out and say it, you think I'm fat." 
  • Last month, I wrote a really angry blog post about the treatment of homeless people and people who only post pictures of food on Twitter, only to be deleted...thankfully. 
  • When I worked at the Toronto Zoo, I would sometimes wander off alone to watch the Bears have sex first thing in the morning. Who am I kidding, this has nothing to do with me PMS'ing. I'd do this any day of the week. Bears love fucking. 
  • I once missed a friends birthday party to watch the movies Steel Magnolias, and My Life. After they were finished and my eyes were swollen shut, I signed up on a website to be ordained online. Makes sense.
  • A few years ago, I ate 12 Oreos and then touched myself after watching a Kardashian's marathon. 

That's all I got in me today folks. I gotta get back to googling pictures of flowers and do-it-yourself weaponry. 

Final thought: Aren't Fist  Chris Brown and Rhianna such a shining example of true love?

Nanners Out.